


VOID

by thoughtsdemise



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Death, Despair, Hurt, M/M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Multi, Warped Reality (AU), robot gore, violent descriptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:58:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8328823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: The pain of loss.





	

The sounds of swords striking a metal floor is loud even amongst the moaning and sparking of dying systems.  Flashes of brilliant light dance about the room too as sparks gutter and blink out of existence.  Weak calls for assistance and aid begin to come over the communications systems.  Those able to even move try to answer the call of the fallen.  The surviving medical staff quickly set up a triage unit.  Firstaide’s voice lou even over the growing clatter of frames being dragged to him.

Drift cannot focus on this or any of it, however.  In his processor he knew he should be moving to help, but his gaze remains fixed on two frames that have already been taken by the shades of death.  Drift remains glued to the spot, unable to start processing what he was seeing.  His helm even tilts to the side, as if a different perspective might banish the horror from in front of his optics.  It is finally the tremble rippin through his frame and a sharp spike of denial piercing the center of his spark that spurs him into movement and draws a choked cry of anguish from his lips.

He stumbles over several graying frames on the rush to his lovers.  He goes down half way there but pulls himself along the floor, crawling through the gore and fluids of the dead and injured.

“Perce, Ratch,” he horsley all for them, still unable to believe his optics.  His spark calls out as well.  It searches for the calm cool strength of Perceptor, the fire and passion of Ratchet.  Only a deep void answers the call.  Drift stumbles to his peds as his spark constricts painfully.  He presses a hand to his chest as he lands on his knees next to the dead bodies of his lovers.

With shaking digits, Drift reaches forward and touches Ratchet’s arm where it lays protectively over Perceptor's exposed spark.  There was an insulting warmth still lingering on the metal even though all color had been bled away with the spark’s death.  Drift’s digits slide to Perceptor’s chest.

Drift wails from deep within his being.  It coils from the core fragment of his spark.  As his optics shift back to Ratchet’s frame, the wail hitches and grows in volume.  The slash that cut through Ratchet’s back had ruptured his spark containment.  Drift keens and lunges forward to pull both lovers into his arms.

Dead weight resists his weak attempts to nestle their helms near his spark, but Drift keeps tugging desperately until they are both tucked in his arms.  His spark calls to him to protect them even if it was useless.  If he could just share a part of his spark then maybe…  He rocks back and forth, clinging to Perceptor and Ratchet tighter.  He call for them, begging them to answer him, but only a deep void and silence answers his cries.

As Drift’s spark flickers and dims in response to the pain and loss, others are there, pulling at him, calling to him.  But he will not hear them.  He runs his digits over each of his lovers’ faces and shutters his optics.  He lowers his helm to gently bump against each of them while he whispers ‘I love you’ for the last time.  He surrenders to the void surround his spark where his lovers once rejoiced in life.


End file.
